Pinned toot

I'm not really sure how to promote myself. If you've enjoyed my work, and have ever felt the urge to throw some coin at me, I now have a Patreon.

I reveal the filename of the individual story and sometimes have additional notes/thoughts about them too. It's all completely free there, if you wish to check it out. I haven't thought of anything to actually place behind a subscription.

Here's the link, thanks for your time and interest!
patreon.com/Teryl

My mirror had always been with me, I took it everywhere.

It kept me company and spoke many truths; how my hair was a mess, how my voice needed improving, how wonderful it would be if I was taller, fairer and more graceful.

So I wasn't lonely, if nothing else any loneliness made sense.

One day a witch who I admired took one hard look and snatched it from me.

"This mirror is cursed, not you."

And I learned what the truth really was.

The princess hid from the sun, with large cloaks if she was even seen during the day, carriages and castles constructed with tinted windows; and her personal chambers located beneath the castle, practically catacombs.

She had dark hair, flawless ivory skin and deep soulful eyes.

All who met her fell in love, all who heard her voice obeyed her words, all shivered at her snow-cold touch.

She reigned for many centuries, the vampire princess.

I was used to felines twining around my ankles, tails flicking the hem of my skirts.
Purring, chittering, sometimes yelling; excitedly, demanding or both.

They knew it was safe here.
I never turned a single one away, no matter what.
My island, however they reached it, was a safe haven.

One day a water-lioness washed ashore.
I healed her wounds and built her a den.

It got a little awkward when SHE tried to twine around my ankles.

Blast, ran into internet trouble immediately after posting and now it's too late to fix a typo.

Thank you for enjoying!

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"Who do you spin the sun-light into silk for?"

"Myself," she replied.

"For whom do you make this dress for?"

"Myself."

"For whom do you pluck stars to put in you hair for? A lucky gentleman?"

"No."

"For whom do you trim rainbows to make paint for your trimmed nails and smiling lips? A lucky gentlelady?"

"No."

"Then who are you putting in all this effort for?"

"Myself," she reminded, donning a mask and gloves to go to the store.

"Don't touch, the mama bird will smell you and reject it!"

Every time I was told this my skin would crawl.

I'd circle back, scoop up whatever chick I found and deposit it back into its nest.

I'd wait.

Every time, there was never an issue, but then, perhaps it was because I had an affinity.

I'd brush twigs out of my feathery hair and wonder; how could any parent reject their child?

Maybe the humans who said that were capable of it.

The huntress observed her son tripping over his own spear repeatedly.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to dance like the travelers from the market!" her son whined, right before tripping again.

The huntress frowned, then sighed.

"Well, that's not what a spear is for."

"It's what I want to use it for."

The huntress stalked over and took the weapon from him.

"Hey!"

"If this is how you're going to be, then you'll need dance lessons."

Oh damn....here we go again with the berries and the life cycle. Another whoknowshowmanyboostscomingup

Blackberry

The unicorn looked as though it was a piece of living night sky, dusky purple and black from nose to tail; horn and hooves obsidian in sheen but so much more resilient.

She lounged beside me, silent except for the wind in her mane.

Every so often she would tap my arm with the side of her horn and I would scroll back up the page I was reading.

"I wish you could read faster," I mumbled.

"You should savor the words more," she retorted.

If Christine and K.I.T.T. dated they'd be like Scarlet Witch and Vision but as cars.

"A squirrel has been at the bird feeder again."

"Darn," I sighed heavily, "I guess I'll refill it."

The moment I was no longer observed, I whistled.

I turned towards the fluttering of wings and wagged my finger at it.

"You're not supposed to break into the bird feeder."

The tiny griffon squawked and puffed defiantly.

"Yes I know you're a growing bird. I'll bring you extra feed."

It stomped a paw.

"And some cheddar popcorn, yes."

I wound the clock back again, to hear the words one more time. I giggled, finger on the dial.

I glanced about as before, then released it. The words belched out in a slow, awkward rumble. Not quite right yet.

I wound the clock back again, but not all the way. I nudged some of the words, and moved the sounds about.

It was a painstaking process, but I was sure I got it right this time.

"You're right, tacos ARE a sandwich."

Nailed it.

I watched the kittens frolic in the yard, fluffy black-grey bundles of energy, and one a brilliant shade of red.

I froze as the town mutt approached; mistreated to cruelness with a penchant for small fluffy things. I rushed for my hose, but when I turned back, the mutt was bolting, tail tucked.

I swore the red kitten’s eyes were glowing with hell-fire. But then it was tackled by its litter-mates and they tumbled out of view.

The broken stag was careful who it revealed itself to, afraid of being damaged further.

Every summer a little girl always knew how to find them.

"If I had a million dollars, I'd take you home with me."

It was a lovely thought and the stag would dream this dream with her.

Each summer she grew taller, and she made the same promise.

Until one day she realized she didn't need a million dollars - just enough to rent a truck and trailer.

"Thank you for saving my kingdom! Please, choose any of my daughters as a reward."

"Er," the hero hesitated, "Your daughters do not interest me--"

"Oh, well I have sons too."

"I'm sure your offspring are all very nice, but lack of interest aside, I couldn't force--"

"Oh, of course not! I only offer because they expressed interest!"

"That's... that's good! But..."

"Yes?"

"I'd rather be rewarded with gold?"

"How novel; very well then!"

"If she looks uncomfortable, she's not playing hard to get. In fact she's probably extra freaked out because, apparently I must remind you, you're dead."

A frown crossed the specter's hunky face, but he nodded solemnly. He'd been a prolific lover in life but there's only so many windows one can safely escape from. Nonetheless one of his qualities was being a good listener.

"Next we should really add that fact to your Tinder profile."

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"If she looks uncomfortable, she's not playing hard to get. In fact she's probably extra freaked out because, apparently I must remind you, you're dead."

A frown crossed the specter's hunky face, but he nodded solemnly. He'd been a prolific lover in life but there's only so many windows one can safely escape from. Nonetheless one of his qualities was being a good listener.

"Next we should really add that fact to your Tinder profile."

Show thread

A finger slid down my spine.

I shivered from the longed touch of another, I shivered because the finger was cold and because I was leaning against a wall.

I considered my next reaction, and decided to calmly face the wall.

"Hello? I didn't like that," I told the wall firmly.

A ghostly face appeared, "What?"

He was handsome but I stood my ground.

"There are rules these days."

"Oh. Please teach me the rules?"

So I did. That easy!

I remember when every night the sky exploded a little.

Sometimes a lot.

It wasn't like other times before, where it was colorful and fun. It was just in the darkness now, punctuated by a great ugly POP. There was no fzzzz, there was no whistle proceeding it.

It was perplexing.

So much so, the monster under my bed heaved open my window one night.

The skies slowly stopped exploding after a week.

We became close friends after that.

The matron of the moon smiled, extending a hand to me, helping me into the saddle of her massive raven.

I was excited at first but soon hid my face in her thick curls, arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She laughed; it was as warm as she was.

I barely felt the raven land. I was dizzy even though I had stopped watching the world grow smaller below us.

She brushed my own curls from my face, "Welcome home."

I hugged her, crying happily.

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